


whatever

by Anonymous



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (it probably is), Angst, Grinding, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Male Solo, Masturbation, Other, onesided... or is it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: ouma gets frisky with wax rantaro.note: i didnt take this seriously when writing it, you shoudnt while reading either.





	whatever

 

Ouma capped his marker . God damn, he was bored.

 

He paced, he drew on his whiteboard, he gave his bed a few bounces and even sang a little tune. The clutter of evidence from trials long past didn’t hold his interest much.

 

This is what having only a few (“no,” his mind taunted) friends gets you, huh.

 

Of course, Ouma could go bother someone. Maybe Saihara, or was he in a Kaito kind of mood today? He mentally went through the list of the people still trapped at the Academy that he was willing to annoy.

 

Nope, they’re probably all busy.

 

Fuck.

 

He turns to see a pair of glassy green eyes looking at him from across the room. Ah, wax Rantaro. How dare he forget his  _ beloved _  inanimate boyfriend?

 

He sat down on the bed. “Ah, Amami-chan! I didn’t see you there. Nice day we’re having.” He said, completely aware of the fact that he sounded like a madman.

 

“Mmhm, yes, I agree. It  _is_  boring as shit in here!”

 

He had taken down the effigy long ago, feeling just a tad uncomfortable with eyes staring at him as he slept.

 

So instead, he had put the statue in his bed.

 

He poked at it. The wax was smooth and hard, perhaps Angie put a protective coating on it? He didn’t know much about art, but the substance was nothing like regular candle wax.

 

Then, bored brilliance struck him. He shimmied, pulling a rubber horse mask out from under his body. He put the thing on Rantaro’s face, and chuckled at both what Rantaro looks like with a horse mask and the absurdity of putting a horse mask on a wax effigy of a dead classmate.

 

_Alright, enough foolishness._ The mask was discarded on the floor and Kokichi defeatedly flopped on the bed. A glance at the clock told him ten minutes had passed since he last drew on the whiteboard. Only ten minutes.

 

He turned on his side, staring at Amami’s profile. The smooth curve of his brow bone led to a long and thin nose that was almost foreign-looking, into a slightly parted mouth. His eyes were a minty green, and long, painted-on lashes framed them. 

 

He traced the features with his index finger, admiring Angie’s work.

 

…

 

Okay, this was getting weird.

 

Not only was he fondling a wax statue, he had been poking around in his wax mouth, seeing how far Angie had gone in creating the effigy.

 

The answer was too far. He could feel around in the mouth, and could stick his whole finger in.

 

Of course, the lips were only parted slightly, so there was no chance of him being able to-- well, you know.

 

So, this was where he was at now. Two fingers in the mouth of wax Amami, dirty thoughts beginning to sprout in his brain.

 

Amami…

 

…

 

Fuck it. He didn’t have anything else to do.

 

Ouma somewhat hastily ground his palm into his crotch, working himself to hardness.

 

He propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over the statue. Fucking hell, Rantaro was always too pretty... 

 

His face hovered over the effigy’s, heart beating fast because of what he was about to do and also the friction against his crotch. His lips met the statue’s in a chaste kiss. They were cold and hard, nothing like a human’s, but not bad-tasting. Feeling bold, he pressed his mouth harder against the statue’s, and plunged his tongue inside.

 

Excitement of the tabboo mingled with horniness and  _God_ , it was a dangerous mix.

 

He went deeper, feeling the press of his lips against the wax, no longer stone-cold because the material had leeched some of his warmth. If he tried hard enough, maybe they’d feel real.

 

He separated his lips from Rantarou’s. A statue had stolen his first kiss, it seems.

 

He sat up and slung a leg over, straddling one of Rantaro’s clothed thighs. He ran his hands up and down Rantaro’s torso, once again marveling at how real everything seemed.

 

It felt like a sin, to defile a work so perfect like this.

 

But  _fuck , it was hot. _

 

 

Kokichi began to grind his hips into the statue. The positioning was awkward and the friction wasn’t enough, so he leant down and tried again--

 

His entire body jolted, stealing the breath from his lungs.

 

Kokichi panted against Rantaro’s chest. “Sh-Shit...”

 

Kokichi wiped his sweaty forehead against his sleeve, and continued.

 

The friction was too good, and the familiar feeling of incoming orgasm built up in his abdomen.

 

Rantaro, Rantaro,  _Rantaro…! _

 

He might’ve said the last chant out loud, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had shoved his hand into his underwear, pulled out his length and gave a hasty pump at just the right moment to send him hurtling over the edge. He came on the effigy’s stomach and chest, ears ringing and his body shaking just a little.

 

He could hear his heart in his ears as he examined the aftermath.

 

 _ Gross _ , he thought. He wiped off the cum and used a tissue to wipe the statue’s lips.

 

He plopped back down onto the bed, drowsy.

 

He just did that.

 

 -

 

When he woke, the statue was just where he had left it, unchanged.

 

 

 

 

Whatever. At least he had killed some time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> shuichi: What the fuck? is this allowed?? Is This Allowed


End file.
